Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 179

“Mrs. Carter?”

The housekeeper, Margaret, noticed Amelia had been crouching on the kitchen floor far too long, frozen as if caught in a trance. “Is something wrong?”

Amelia closed the fridge and quietly stood, then slipped her arms around Margaret from behind, resting her face on the woman’s shoulder. Margaret radiated a comforting warmth that made the kitchen feel less cold.

Margaret’s own daughter was around Amelia’s age, and sometimes still clung to her in the same way. She chuckled, teasing, “What, can’t bear to see me go? I’ll only be gone a few days, you know. I promise I’ll be back.”

Amelia didn’t answer, just murmured a soft “Mm.”

Margaret sighed. “No telling if the new girl’s cooking will suit you, but you have to say something if you don’t like it. Promise me you’ll eat, Amelia. You’re too thin as it is—need to put on some weight.”

Amelia nodded again. Picking up on her mood, Margaret dried her hands and gently patted her arm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Amelia blinked hard, fighting the sting behind her eyes. “…Just missing my mom, that’s all.”

Which mom, exactly? Her birth mother, or the woman who raised her? Amelia couldn’t say—maybe she just missed the feeling of being mothered.

When dinner was ready and Margaret had to leave, Amelia walked her to the door and hugged her tightly. “See you soon.”

Margaret laughed. “You’d think I was never coming back! I’ll be home before you know it. I’ve put your dinner on the warming tray, so it’ll still be hot when you’re hungry.”

Amelia nodded.

Once Margaret was gone, Amelia dragged out a large suitcase and began stuffing in every gift Daniel had ever given her—clothes, bags, jewelry. It wasn’t long before she realized one suitcase was nowhere near enough.

Even letting go was exhausting.

She sat down on the closet carpet, surrounded by the evidence of her efforts, and wondered, fleetingly, if she could just set the whole lot on fire. But that was impossible, so she gave up, putting most of it back—except for the gifts from anniversaries and holidays, which she left in the suitcase.

Afterward, she collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

She didn’t wake until nine that evening.

He leaned in, brushing his nose along her cheek. “Anyone you want dead, I’ll deal with it. I’ve got your back.”

“I only want you dead. Maybe just do us both a favor and off yourself.”

She squirmed, irritated by his constant little gestures, and tried to get off his lap. But Daniel tightened his grip around her waist. “Violet’s been diagnosed with depression.”

Amelia froze, turning to look at him.

Daniel absentmindedly toyed with her fingers, tracing each one as if memorizing them.

“She was diagnosed a few days ago. Today she got burned by some hot soup—lost it completely. If we don’t handle it right, things could get worse.”

Depression—what a convenient excuse. Amelia gave a crooked smile. “So that’s why you sent the housekeeper to cook for her? Since when does homemade food cure depression?”

He moved on to her hair, winding a silky strand around his finger and letting it spring back. To him, she was just another plaything—something to be picked up, twisted around, and put back down whenever he pleased.